


Lacrymosa

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Fantasy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-31
Updated: 2007-03-31
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:31:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian and Justin take a detour into an area of sexuality that's a little "darker" than the usual





	Lacrymosa

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes:

This was written as a Christmas gift for my beta, Elyxer, who insisted I post the fic so she could share it with you. This is still for you, Rena! Hugs!

I also want to point out that this fic is strictly a fantasy scenario and isn't meant to be - nor is it - an accurate portrayal of a BDSM lifestyle.

 

* * *

"Look at me, Sunshine."

His voice was soft and you knew it was more of an order than a request, and one you'd normally be happy to obey – hell, normally you had a harder time looking away from him than at him. But this time you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You didn't want to do it. What you wanted to do was bolt and run, but your thoughts were going topsy-turvy and somehow the signal to your feet wasn't quite making it through the synaptic chaos. So you nervously picked at the wallpaper covering the flat plane pressed into your back while he stood over you, his hands pressed into the wall on either side of your shoulders. What had set him off was coming home after a shitty day after a shitty week and discovering the fitting (shitty) end to it all – and he'd told you and reminded you time and time again after you'd fucked up once and the place had been robbed. He'd even told you this morning – you go out, you lock up, you set the alarm. Simple. Going out hadn't been the problem, especially running late the way you were, it was the rest that had been forgotten in the fray. At least until you arrived back home shortly after he did, found him livid and remembered...shit!

So he'd torn into you about the unlocked door with the strain of the whole shitty week spiking his demeanor, you'd fought back and the situation had typically escalated into a contest of wills and hurtful words culminating in a shoving match until you'd wound up here, squeezed against the wall with his menacing presence hovering over you, your face flushed, your bottom lip between your teeth, and your eyes glued to the floor. It wasn't that you were afraid of him; angry as he was, you knew he would never physically hurt you, it was just that...

"Look. At. Me."

Shit. Shit! What scared you more than his anger was your own reaction to it, the way you always seemed to react to it, to him, the realization he could see he'd defeated you like that, in this way, right now when you were still angry yourself. At least you should be after his behavior. Making such a THING of it, overreacting that way, you tell yourself, and no you had no reason to be afraid of him, of course not...it was just that...

Two fingers under your chin tilted your head back forcibly. So you looked. His expression was half smile, half smirk. "This is turning you on. Isn't it."

It wasn't a question, and if it were you couldn't have answered anyway – not with the sudden rush of his body crushing you to the wall and squeezing the breath out of your lungs, kissing you hard, his hands pinning your arms to the wall above your head. The breath you pulled into your nostrils was filled with his scent, leather and tobacco and soap, and it made your heart pound and your blood buzz with an alarm that was exciting in a fucked-up sort of way.

His whispering voice was right in your ear. "Maybe....maybe I should put you over my knee and spank you until you can't sit down for a week, how would that be? Hm? Would you like that?"

He took both your wrists in one hand, keeping your hands pinned, and you struggled when you realized the other was reaching between your legs, finding evidence of how much you would like that while his tongue snaked into your ear in the way he knows makes you crazy. You vaguely thought you should be mortified when you found yourself pushing back and arching into him when you felt his hard dick pressing against your hip, moaning like a whore and whispering please, please – but you didn't care, you'd worry about shame later, not now, not squirming after his prodding fingers and straining against the iron grip on your hands, not breathing in shuddering gasps and begging fuck me, fuck me, shameless as a dog bitch in heat.

You sank your teeth into the pulse in his neck and when he drew away from your mouth you stretched up to catch his lips in a kiss, almost desperate to see if he would kiss you back. But he jerked away, stepped back and held you to the wall with both hands on your shoulders, his eyes narrowed, cold. "I don't think so."

Then he was gone, leaving you gritting your teeth and fighting the urge to tell him to go fuck himself.

 

*****

 

It was past midnight and you were already in bed when he finally came near you again, having spent the entire evening absorbed in files, the laptop, silence, present and miles away at the same time. You watched him silently undress in the dark and then slip under the covers beside you, not touching you. You gripped the edge of your pillow, willing your heart to stop thudding, and it seemed like hours.

Finally he said, "Was it really an oversight? You just forgot, huh?"

You smiled because everything was all right. No matter what happened next, it was. "Yes. Of course."

He half laughed, half sighed and lifted up a corner of his blanket. "Come here."

You crawled over, melting into his arms, his warmth, almost devouring him in an incredible hit of euphoria that felt like winning something precious back after you thought you'd lost it. After he'd fucked you, he held you in the darkness and asked you about the incident that evening, made you tell him things you couldn't believe you were telling him even as you spoke. About that dark, secret place inside you that was scary and safe at the same time, the place you sometimes escaped to when things were too much...or not enough.

You pressed your face against his shoulder while you spoke, flushed and almost sweating with embarassment, but you couldn't stop smiling, either. He listened, asked you questions that made you turn yourself inside-out, and when you faltered he said, "Tell me.", and so you did, and at one point you thought you said something like "anything", but later you weren't sure anymore. It wasn't even the acts you described that mattered, it wasn't so much about that as about him, about him knowing you, finding you out and knowing you better than you knew yourself. About trusting him to push you beyond your limits with no fear because he would absolutely protect you; you could leap off any precipice he led you to, certain that the moment you fell, he'd catch you. And nothing, by any means whatsoever, could ever hurt you.

He fucked you senseless afterwards, touching you very carefully this time, like a breakable thing he treasured. And that's the way he held you afterward too, and you closed your eyes, feeling him watching your face.You felt a fingertip trace your features very softly, an eyebrow, ruffling your lashes, trailing over a cheekbone and moving down to trace your lips. When he spoke again, your eyes flew open and you stared into the darkness.

"Next time you don't lock up," he whispered, "I really will strip you and flog your bottom. A third offense and I'll take a cane to your ass. A fourth one I'll take a cane to your ass and your legs and not fuck you for five days – and God help you if I catch you whacking off. A fifth time I'll do the same thing but I'll make it a week and fuck someone else besides that. And a sixth time? I'll do what I did for the fifth. But I'll make you watch. Do I make myself clear?"

You blinked. Crazy excitement seemed to buzz from toes to your throat. Your tongue was stuck to the roof of your mouth so you nodded, then realized he may not have seen that in the dark. So you said, "Yes."

He kissed you and smiled, the back of his hand softly stroking your cheek. "That's very good. I'm sure you'll remember even if you mess up a few times at first. I'll make sure you remember. And tomorrow we'll go over a couple of other rules and regulations. Some of them will be quite important. And you know what? You wilfully disobey me on those? I'll make the consequences for the unlocked door seem like a Disney cartoon."

 

*****

 

Shower. Getting dressed. Breakfast. Cheerful bickering over who would get to read which section of the newspaper first. Ignoring his grumbling and griping that the Arabica was out and putting it on the grocery list. The day was so normal that nothing but the dark blue thumb print on your wrist reminded you that yesterday had even happened. You kept touching it and smiling.

His eyes stayed glued to the newspaper as he stirred his coffee. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

"Hmph." More stirring. Then, "Remind me to get the oil checked on the jeep, okay?"

"Hey - remember to get the oil checked on the jeep, okay?"

"Very funny. I meant remind me next week." Stir, stir, stir.

"Well, then be more specific."

"Smartass."

"You trying to drill a hole through the cup with that spoon, or what? That's nerve-wracking."

He shot you a look but put the spoon down, then closed the newspaper with a snap. "While we're on the subject of being specific..."

He trailed off and the temperature of the room seemed to drop ten degrees as he watched you. Just watched you with a smile playing around his mouth. The silence didn't seem to end and you wanted to ask him to continue, but all of a sudden you didn't dare. You felt your face grow hot, you didn't know where to look and tried not to squirm in your chair. It was making you fucking nervous. Finally he pushed his chair back, and when he stood you flinched back but he wasn't even looking at you even as he was coming toward your side of the table. You told yourself not to be such a silly and shoved your chair away from the table. You were half out of it when his palm landed solidly on the middle of your chest, shoving you back. Hard. You were still blinking from the surprise when he leaned down and put his lips next to your ear.

That hissing whisper again, the one you'd heard last night. "Getting up without my permission is a major fuck-up, Sunshine. In fact, moving so much as a finger without my permission is something you won't do, starting right now. Understood?"

You hardly dared breathe. Strong fingers grasped your chin, digging in painfully, and he forced you to raise your face to meet his eyes, asking you again if you understood. You told him you did and he released his grip, but not before running his thumb over your bottom lip. You wanted to dart out your tongue to lick his thumb, pull it into your mouth, but you restrained yourself just in time.

"That's good," he said, moving behind you and out of your line of vision. "Put your hands on the table. Both of them. Flat. Good, that's the way."

Suddenly you felt him right behind you; the hairs on the back of your neck prickled and it was so unexpected that – damn it! – you turned your head just a fraction of an inch before you've even realized you were about to do it. His fingers twisted in your hair and your head was yanked backwards so hard you felt your eyes start to water, blurring and softening the sight of his harsh stare. "So who told you to fucking move?"

He was holding your head back so far it was difficult to breathe. The shallow gasps you could draw in only supplied a portion of the oxygen your thudding heart was demanding, and you found yourself growing slightly dizzy.

"Close your eyes," he whispered. Your eyelids fluttered shut and he immediately released his grasp. Air shuddered into your lungs as you waited, your eyes closed, immobile, the skin on the back of your neck and shoulders tingling and hot, acutely aware of his presence just behind you. You willed your heart to slow down, focused on that; that and breathing.

"Listen up," he said very softly, his fingers in your hair, stroking gently this time, caressing you as he spoke. "Listen. Don't move. Don't speak. Unless I ask you a question. You won't move until I tell you to. You'll keep your eyes closed until I say otherwise, and then keep them down. You won't look at me unless I give you permission to look at me. Nod if that's clear."

You do. It's clear. You listen and you breathe. You heard the whisper of his bare feet on the hardwood floor as he paced around you slowly.

"When and if we do this, I don't want you questioning me, refusing me, or making me repeat myself. I don't want to hear the word "no" from you. Each and every time you break one of these rules in the slightest way, you will be punished accordingly. I will take no instructions or directions from you beyond what we discussed as limits last night, none at all. The only way to stop everything is using the safeword you told me last night, that's the only exception to the no-speaking rule. And that better not happen before it has to. That clear too?"

You were frozen and your mouth was like a desert, but you managed to tell him yes, that was also clear. You heard and felt him come back up behind the chair and slide his fingers under your chin. When he pulled your head back to lean on his stomach again, he did so gently and his voice was soft as he told you to open your eyes and look at him. His fingertips caressed your throat, making you shiver. I am so absolutely fucked up, you thought, almost smiling at him, stopping yourself, but too late; he'd noticed, the way he noticed everything about you.

He smirked and ran his thumb over your lips, fingers curled under your chin. "You better wipe that fucking smile off your face, by the way."

He came around and stood beside you, very close, close enough so that you felt the faint tickle of his breath on your collarbone. You thought he was still smiling but you weren't sure. You closed your eyes again as you felt his fingers in your hair, brushing it back from your flushed face, and it felt reassuring.

"Look at me," he whispered. "Turn around here, come on."

You exhaled the breath you didn't realize you'd been holding, turning to face him, wanting to throw your arms around his waist and hold him, be held, but you didn't, you were completely unsure around him - even more so than the night he'd found you under that streetlight.

"You can touch me if you want," he said. You did smile at him then, putting your hands on his waist, sliding them over the tight, faded denim covering his hips. He was hard. You buried your face against his hip, your hands sliding around to cup his ass, his fingers still in your hair, stroking softly.

"What, you want what's under there?" he whispered. You nodded, your face still firmly pressed against his belly, your hand sliding back around to caress him through the soft material of his worn jeans, inhaling to catch his scent.

"Really," he said. "You want my hard dick up you? Standing up? Pounding you into the wall?"

"Yes," you whispered. You realized you were salivating.

"Or in your mouth? Down your throat, fucking your face?"

"Yes...please." You did. More than you've ever wanted anything in your life.

He leaned down and pulled your face upwards to meet his, kissing you softly, tongue just flicking against your lips, teasing. "We have something to take care of first."

"What," you whispered against his mouth. You felt faint, wondering what was more important than --?

"This morning," he whispered, "I went out to the mailbox, intending to get the newspaper, and you know what I discovered?"

Your eyes popped open and you froze. Holy shit. It couldn't be. Not seriously! His fingers were still stroking your face and he was whispering in your ear, his voice so soft and gentle. "I opened the door, and you know what? It was fucking unlocked. All night. And guess who was the last one in?"

You stuttered, your heart beginning to flail wildly, "I –"

He drew back to smile at your horrified expression. "You. Precisely. Now remember what I told you yesterday? Hmm? Think I didn't mean it?" He stood up and drew back, folding his arms across his chest. His voice turned hard and flinty. "Get up."

You didn't move since it wasn't really registering. The goddamn door. What he'd told you he'd do. And now his intention to do it, to punish you. And were you serious about wanting to do this? Now?

His gaze stayed on you, expressionless. "Okay. Let's get a few things straight here. You're going to be punished for the door. And you're going to be punished on top of that for every time you break one of my rules. Like not making me repeat myself? You're just making it a lot worse. Now do you want to get up? Or else we can go right to using the cane."

You were sure you didn't want that , so you did as he asked, even remembering not to look directly at him.

"Take your clothes off."

Your pants and shirt quickly landed at your feet, your underwear was about to join them when he told you to stop. He came to where you were standing, looking you over. His scent filled your nostrils and you broke out in goosebumps when he softly stroked your stomach.

"Next time when I tell you to strip, go slower. But that's okay this time."

He tilted your face up and kissed you, holding on to your hips and slowly moving you backwards, directing you until your back hit the cold metal of the pillar near the kitchen area. He pressed you against it with his body, the material of his clothing rough against your bare skin. His voice was low and soft. "Turn around and stay still."

You turned your face to the pillar and grasped it with your hands the way you had just been holding on to him, while you feel him remove your underwear, his touch as soft as his voice had been. You felt his fingers move over your back, caress your ass, run over your arms to grasp your wrists, moving your hands higher on the metal until they were over your head. "Keep your hands there."

You heard him unbuckle his belt and the soft hiss as it slid out of the loops at his waist. His arms went around you and he pressed against you, his voice a whisper. "Don't move."

His hands moved upward, the belt dangling between your body and the pillar, and you felt the pads of his fingers play over your nipples, circling and flicking, barely touching, making them stand out. You tried to breathe and couldn't believe this was turning you on this much.

"I might go easy on you this time, since we're just getting started. But don't think it won't hurt...or that you'll agree with my definition of easy."

He stepped away from you, and you gripped the metal of the pillar and squeezed your eyes shut. His belt – holy fuck! You heard it whistling through the air but before the sound even registered, you felt it crack down and burn your skin, once, twice and then a third time, leaving trails of heat that tingled in the cool air of the room, but still it wasn't as bad as you had thought it would be. Then you remembered there were probably more blows coming.

"Don't," he said, "fucking make me tell you something twice. Do you remember the other things I told you?"

You told him you did and he made you repeat them – you did, expecting to hear the swish of the belt any second, but it didn't come and you started to breathe again. When it did come, it was five times in such fast sucession that you weren't able to draw back the breath it had knocked out of your lungs, and the sting on your ass started to burn through your skin. He punctuated each blow with a word – Make. Sure. You. Remember. That. You were gasping for air and gripping the pillar, your knuckles white, when he came back to stand behind you. He put one hand over both your wrists, pinning them to the cold metal.

"Don't move," he said. "I've got it folded double in my hand."

Folded double? You felt your face burn in humiliation, almost as badly as your battered ass – was he going to spank you as though you were a little schoolgirl? You started to squirm, but he was holding your wrists so tightly there was no getting away, and you knew you'd have more blue marks there later on.

You told him,"No!"

He leaned against you, whispering in your ear. "What?"

The shortened length of the folded leather bit into the soft skin on the back of your legs and you cried out, surprised and because it really did fucking hurt this time.

"You want to repeat that?" he asked.

You shook your head, No.

"Don't move," he whispered. "If you move I'll just start over again."

He pressed your hands into the pillar and this time the leather strap made no sound to warn you, folded double like it was. The blows hit you one after the other and it really was a lot worse this time, a lot worse, the leather stinging your already burning skin and biting its way into your flesh, and you were sobbing and pleading with him to stop it, fighting your panicked reflexes to get away from the impact of the belt. You lost count, but it seemed to go on for ever, and then stopped just as suddenly. You pressed your forehead to the pillar, your chest heaving, and realized you were shaking and your face was wet with tears you hadn't noticed start to flow until you felt them drip onto your chest.

After what seemed like forever, you heard the metallic "clunk" of the buckle as he dropped the belt on the floor, and then he was pressing against you again, the fabric of his clothing tickling your oversensitive skin, making it almost unbearable not to move. You dropped your head back on his chest, your heart pounding and breathing much too fast, as he ran his hands up and down you, whispering sweet things in your ear and kissing your neck, stopping you from falling apart, and putting you back together again. His hands wandered down, between your legs, and he stroked and caressed you, pushing back and making his hard cock press against your burning skin, and you gripped the pillar again as you started to tense and push back as it went on with no indication of him stopping, your breath stuttering and your fingers cramped on the pillar.

"Don't come," he warned softly. "You won't come until I let you, understand?"

He told you to breathe, and you realized you were starting to hyperventilate and it was all too much to process at once. You felt yourself sliding down the pillar but he caught you and picked you up in his arms and you were safe there as he carried you to the bed and put you down on it, the sheets and pillows cool and soft on your still burning skin. He told you to turn over and you rolled onto your stomach, your arms folded under your face, as you listened to the whisper of clothing as he undressed.

The bed swayed as he moved next to you and you were suddenly half-covered with his weight and heat as he pressed up next to you, his hands running up and down the length of your body.

"You're so hot," he whispered, "I love this, fucking you like this..."

You were moaning, moving against his hands like a cat and pushing, sliding until you were under him with his full weight on top of you, pinning you down. You felt the head of his cock pushing against you but not pushing in, and you couldn't move although you were straining downward, breathing so fast, caught up between the soft pressure and his voice whispering in your ear, and, oh fuck –

"This is such a rush," he said, "if you knew how much I love this. Did you know how much I would love this?"

You couldn't think straight enough to remember. "I didn't know. I wasn't sure."

He laughed. "Liar. I should punish you for making me wait this long, what do you think?"

His dick pushed into you further, just an inch, but enough to make your breath explode from your lungs along with a cascade of begging and pleading words. His hands roughly gripped your hips, dragging you backwards and up and with one hard push he was all the way inside you and you gasped and grabbed handfuls of sheets, twisting them in your fingers, and God, it was –

He pushed you down roughly and held you there with one hand between your shoulderblades. "Now you do know."

He moved against you, holding you down firmly and pounding into you almost brutally again and again until you were moaning into the pillow, clutching it in your hands, wanting this to go on for ever and at the same time wanting to come in the most awful way. Your hand trailed downward and you were touching yourself, a little surprised that he was letting you get away with that, you knew he was aware of what you were up to – but you didn't care either, stroking yourself, moving as much as he would allow you to meet his hard thrusts, and he let you, he waited until you were gasping, tensing and going ridgid under him, about to come. That was when he reached under you and grabbed your hand away and you almost screamed with frustration.

"Oh no you don't," he snapped.

He went on pounding into you, holding on to your hands and pressing them into the mattress, his upper body pressed into your back, huffing with each savage push. Suddenly he stopped and pulled away from you, grabbing your shoulders, and you suddenly found yourself on your back with him kneeling in front of you, stroking his cock with one hand and pulling you upright with the other.

"Suck me off," he demanded.

He watched you intently as you carefully peeled off the condom and your lips closed over the head of his dick, sucking softly. You moved your tongue over the silky head, licked the sensitive underside and softly prodded the slit, wanting to taste him. He closed his eyes, his fingers threading through your hair and caressing your scalp and you wanted to purr like a cat. Your hands moved to his ass, pushing him forward to the back of your throat and you pull back again, increasing the suction and swirling your tongue around the shaft on the upstroke. He was moaning softly, making you shiver and want to swallow him whole. God, you loved this, you thought you might be just as turned on by sucking him as he was.

He grabbed the back of your head after a while, holding you still, and rocked into your mouth, slowly at first and then harder, hitting the back of your throat, and you breathed through your nose, feeling your throat relax and letting him in deeper with each thrust until he was gasping and you could tell he was about to come from the way he moved and breathed. He grabbed the hair at the back of your neck and yanked your face backwards, groaning as he shot all over your face, silky strands of cum running down your cheeks and over your lips. Your tongue shot out to lick them from your mouth and from the head of his cock.

He was laughing as he pushed you back down on the mattress. "Jesus – that was fucking hot!"

You were biting your lip. He wasn't going to stop now – was he? Hating how whiny you sounded, you asked, "What about me?"

"What about you?" He was leaning over you, pushing your arms into the mattress again and you barely had enough room to squirm – but you did squirm, hoping he wouldn't make you beg again.

He was kissing your ears, your neck, lingering at your nipples, making you twist around harder. "Think you've earned that, Sunshine?"

No. But you said, "Yes."

He was laughing. "Brassy little twat. You haven't."

Shit! But he was moving lower, still holding onto your wrists and it hurt and you knew you'd see marks there for days, and every wrinkle in the sheet was digging into your abused ass and back, but then you felt his mouth on you and everything swirled together, pain and pleasure and fear that he would stop again just as -- . But he didn't and suddenly you were twitching and grabbing at him because you were coming fast and hard enough that you were afraid your heart would stop, and it seemed to last for ever. And then you couldn't move or speak anymore, you clung to him and realized that dark secret place inside you wasn't so scary anymore, in fact it was warm and soft, and you let yourself sink down into it.

When you opened your eyes again it was dark and hours later, and you found yourself safe in his arms with his hand on your face and a smile on his. You smiled back and he pulled the blankets over both of you, telling you to go back to sleep. You couldn't remember ever feeling this relaxed and reassured and safe, so you did.

 

*****

 

A week later the marks and prints and scratches on your skin had all but disappeared. You kind of loved them, you thought, as you took a last drag from your cigarette and dropped it into the pile of butts growing at your feet. You even kind of missed them and wanted them back, they'd reminded you every day that you were – in that unique way – all his. You sighed impatiently and folded your arms across your chest, keeping the front door of the house in view and at the same time being careful that you wouldn't be seen yourself, lurking just across the street. You were waiting for him to get there and find you out of the house, and you hated waiting with nothing to do, but you didn't want to go somewhere else and miss this. Besides, it was much too risky to leave the door unguarded, unlocked and cracked open the way it was.


End file.
